


Timekeeping

by Anarchyinplasma



Series: Ozglyn - Slices of Eternity. [19]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Short, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6313780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarchyinplasma/pseuds/Anarchyinplasma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oz sleeps. So does Glynda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timekeeping

**Author's Note:**

> Well here we are again, hope you all enjoy, especially the ever-so-consistent Jess, a reviewer so prolific that if they had an account I would probably have dedicated them something by now.
> 
> I'll also say that if you have any prompts for Ozglyn fics you'd like, please do send them to me, I always welcome new ideas.
> 
> Enjoy.

Only Glynda knew about the pocket-watch Oz kept tucked in his jackets inside pocket. He didn't need it anymore, but he kept it on hand, as a memento. But one day, he's having trouble focusing, he's been pushing far too hard in preparation for exams, using his semblance a frankly ludicrous amount, living ninety hour days. She's had enough.

She slips her hand inside his jacket, finds the watch, and withdraws it, then presses it into his hand firmly. Oz is startled, he's almost forgotten he even had that watch, then he remembers why he has it, and the conversation where he told Glynda about it.

It was a normal rainy day, the two of them just relaxing on Glyn's bed. She's idly digging around in his jacket, removing all the junk in his pockets, the accumulated sweet wrappers she puts in there when there's no bin around. She reaches the inside pocket and takes out the watch.

She doesn't know quite what to make of it, quite why Oz has an archaic, fallable, mechanical watch when he's a walking clock (among many other things) is a tad beyond her deductive skills. So, being blunt, she just asks.

“What's this for?” It's clearly a query he was expecting when she found it. Even still, the answer is not enlightening.  
“You might say it's my soul.” Comes the response. She raises an eyebrow, silently demanding he elaborate.

“You know my semblance isn't normal, it's not hereditary either.” He starts, she nods, and he continues “well when I was young, no-one could figure out what it was, it doesn't manifest for anyone but me, and to me, it was normal, sometimes everyone just stopped.”

His eyes glaze over slightly as he recounts the next part to her “my grandfather is the only other person in recorded history to have the same semblance I do, so he recognised the signs, one day, he took me into his shed, you know he liked to tinker with things?”

She nods again, she's met Oz's family, including his surviving grandparents when she's stayed with him during holidays, his grandfather was a kind, careing, intelligent man, he'd taught them both about intricate mechanisms, showing the beauty in the natural world. She'd also taken a particular liking to his grandmother, she was an incredibly intelligent woman. Often sitting with Glynda and helping her with aura control, while their semblances were not related, she had shown Glynda valuable lessons in control and precise manipulation.

She becomes aware that Oz has paused in his explanation and pokes him, before gesturing he continue.  
“Anyway,” continues Oz “he asked me if the world was always the same speed, I obviously said no, and he knew. He told me what my semblance was, then how to control it, what people and objects were in the temporal flow, then once I'd mastered that, he gave me that watch and had me bind my own personal timeline to it, that will always keep accurate time to me, stops me getting lost, very dangerous things can happen if I don't remember when to go back to.”

Glynda gains a new appreciation for the watch on her hands, the fine chain hanging loosely between her fingers. Oz sits up and props his back against the headboard of the bed, pulling her into his lap and turning the watch over in her hands. He slips his thumbnail under the indentation in the backplate and it pops off, leaving Glynda to stare at the intricate workings of the device in wonderment, the finely toothed gears and the winding mechanism, mechanical but beautiful.

There's a makers mark on the inside of the backplate, engraved with L. Ozpin in fancy cursive.  
“My grandfather made it.” Comes the whisper in her ear, and that explained the initials, Loki Ozpin, though the old man seemed quite unlike his namesake, an old God of deception, he'd also taught them both quite a few tricks to get out of very dire situations, so in hindsight, it seemed quite apt, to a degree.

Oz woke up.

At some point Glynda had moved him from their seats over by their textbooks onto her bed, then burrowed into his side while he slept; since she now appeared sound asleep as he had been a moment ago. He noticed his watch on the bedside table and flicked it open, watching the ornate hands slowly move, the second hand inset at the tip with a small emerald, perpetually locked in a molten state. He smirked, his grandfather had always been very perceptive.


End file.
